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Thursday, 18 December 2003

Well
here we sit in the harbour of Puerto de la Restinga on the island of
El Hierro about to set off, as so many thousands of others have
before us, on the start of our trans-Atlantic trip. The island, the
most southern and western of the Canaries was, at one time the end of
the known world and we leave tomorrow for the Cape Verde’s, some
750 miles to the SW. From there we will head west across the waters
to Tobago, Trinidad and through the Caribbean. But all that’s ahead
as much has happened in the month since we last wrote…….

We
finally left Arrecife on Lanzarote for a couple of weeks cruising the
Canaries. Our first night out was ‘orrible as the anchorage was
rocky, rolling and uncomfortable. But Fuerteventura proved to be an
absolute contrast to Lanzarote and made us want to spend a summer
cruising the local waters. For once I would have to say that the
pilot books DO NOT over estimate a particular phenomena and that is
the very aptly named acceleration zones. In the space of a hundred
metres the wind strength can increase by several Beaufort scales and
the boat takes off seemingly out of control and on the latest bash
through one we came out the other side to find our Max Speed has gone
up to 12.3 knots on the GPS. And that under a reduced rig!

At
our last stop on Fuerteventura we pulled into a harbour intending to
anchor but spotted an American and a Kiwi yacht tied up so followed
suit. That night we found the local population used the roadway, to
which the quay was attached, as a meeting place to listen to football
matches, play loud music or simply conduct their relationships away
from family gaze. About 6 a.m. we heard Toots cry out and a thud as
she arrived back on deck. Leaping out of bed and up the companionway
I was just in time to see one distressed cat leaping for the jetty
wall, slipping and plunging some 9 or 10 feet into the sea. Screaming
to Bee that “Toots was in” I tried to grab the swimming moggy (between the hull and the wall) but
her stroke carried her beyond my hands and I rushed, stark naked up
the jetty ladder, barely noticing a car parked opposite with a, no doubt
surprised, couple in it. I had somehow snatched up the fishing net we
keep for these occasions although it no longer has a handle and so
treated the bemused couple the rare sight of one hairy arsed
Englishman bent over the jetty wall pathetically waving the said
fishing net at the water at least a further 7 feet out of reach. Bee
maintains that the woman confronted with such horror will have taken
up vows of celibacy.... Meanwhile Superwoman had also joined the stark
naked affray, though wisely remained out of sight, on a ladder by the bow. By now Toots having swum some 20-foot ahead of the boat
was persuaded to head back towards us by dint of me rushing along the
quay shouting and waving my arms. Bee, seeing she was heading for the wrong side of the boat, launched herself from
the ladder, grabbed the bobstay and snatched Toots from her intended
circumnavigation of the hull. Now our troubles are about to begin.
Clinging to the ladder with one hand, moggy in the other, Bee is
unable to defend herself from one very frightened, agitated and
extremely sharp-clawed cat. With one heave Bee threw Toots up onto
the deck where she promptly scarpered. However with Toots rescued and on deck
we went below.

I found a towel and then Toots as I wanted to dry her off.... Picking her
up remarked to Bee that she was remarkably dry…….

We
looked at each other. Bee had deep scratches across her chest, a
gaping wound in her bottom lip where the cat had dug its paw in, as a means
of leverage and the blood seemed to be flowing everywhere…….

Bee
said the water was very warm

I
thought it would have to be dry not warm and donning shorts I went up
to see the spectators on the jetty. In excited Spanish they confirmed
that there had been a catfight, and that both were still on board.

We
had rescued the wrong cat!

And
to prove the point one bedraggled and very scared cat slunk out
Toot’s shelf, and made another leap for the jetty wall, succeeded
and raced off into the rocks.

Toots
ignored us and our dilemma and kept on filing her nails.

The
serious side of all this was two fold. One we were obviously
concerned about rabies and two Bee beat me to the first alcoholic
drink of the day as we both downed stiff brandies.

Another hard day in the office

It
was in this harbour that we had a conversation with the crew on a
Czech boat. The skipper was looking bemusedly at Hannah and asking me
about her. Told where we were going he asked “was it safe”? The
Atlantic? I asked. “No” he replied “your boat”! We were not
impressed at his lack of sailing awareness and when they left for
Gran Canaria some hours later we doubted we would see them and their
very new, very expensive American built speed machine. But there is a
god, as leaving some 5 hours after them we arrived at our anchorage
the following morning to find them at anchor. We scurried round like
demented flies, stowing sails, tidying up and generally out to show
we had been at anchor for hours rather than just arrived whilst they
slept on. Needless to say they had gone without a word when we
surfaced a few hours later no doubt putting in calls to American
builders about strange looking craft following them at high speed……….

The
trip to this anchorage gave us our first real taste of acceleration
zones and the seas that can build up. We spent most of the time under
mizzen, stays’l and No1 but still felt overwhelmed at times but we
had a fast sail, encountered our first flying fish and suffered from
a reluctant Stanley who having lavishly praised him could be turning
into a Diva. Only joking Stanners.

The
sea here is really something else, and at times is like looking into
an aquarium. Bright blue Angel fish abound and the sea colour is a
wonderful blue. Diving is extremely popular and thankfully so as at
one harbour where we anchored the holding was so poor we dragged. We
persuaded a passing dive boat to take our kedge and dump it further
out. 2 days later we needed him again and found out that not only was
he very helpful he also owned the company so a great big thanks to
Chris of Tenerife Diving who enabled us to lay out 150 metres of
anchor line when the squalls were giving us a hard time in Las
Galletas on Tenerife.

Finally,
as we were about to start this scribble our phone rang and we heard
the dulcet tones of a good friend from the yard, Alastair. Whilst we
were battling across yet another piece of swell ridden water we both
decided that yotties have got their heroes all wrong. By and large we
idolise the Hiscocks et al for their exploits but Alastair dismisses
all thoughts of wandering the oceans for a quiet life aboard his
schooner with the occasional foray to France or the wilder parts of
the Solent. Stand up and take a bow Private Dilley as Bee swore we
would join your ranks in between “chatting to Hughie” on a recent
trip.

And
finally, finally. As we left our last anchorage, the sun shone, the
main and stays’l were set and we were preparing to hoist the No 1.
I gave the nod to Bee, then noticed a squall about to hit us and
tried to warn Bee about the danger. But Bee had already begun hauling
the sail up and then the wind arrived.

The sail flew away from the
boat, Hannah turned toward the cliff face and accelerated and Bee
screamed for me to help her control the sail. Together we managed to
hoist the sail 2/3rds the way, up before I raced back to the tiller
to stop us careering bow first into the cliff face. Bee finished the
job and returned to the cockpit, holding her hands. The wind had hit
us with such force the jib sheet had raced through her hands removing
several layers of hard calluses and leaving the hands raw and bloody.